Angel
by Hugsiez
Summary: Abby's POV after 'the call'. Spoilers for ep. 10.1 Song-Angel by Sarah McLachlan. Please R&R!


**AN- **Short little fic of Abby's POV after the news of Luka's death. ^_^;; My contribution to the little bunch. It was going to be a Lubsan, but my Luby side took over.   
  
**Usual disclaimers apply-including for the song and the characters. **  
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Spend all your time waiting  
For that second chance  
For a break that would make it okay  


  
The ER, finally after eight hours, seems to start slowing down; to finally give everybody a break. As I walk inside the lounge, in hopes that it could be alone, I soon find that once again I'm wrong. Malik is in there, getting ready to leave since his shift just ended. Almost mechanically, I smile at him and go to my locker, avoiding small talk, and I pretend to be looking intently for something that's not there. Something that will never be there.  
  


_There's always one reason  
To feel not good enough  
And it's hard at the end of the day_  


  
Finally, after what seems like forever, the door closes and the lounge is empty. I'm the only one there and everyone outside is by the admit desk, talking about their 'exciting day,' but I want to be alone.   
  
I need to be alone…  
  
It's been two days since we got the news, and since then all I've wanted is to be alone and not be bothered. It's as if I need to sort out my thoughts, my feelings, but each time I try nothing happens and I end up feeling exactly the same, or worse. 'What if' and 'Maybe if I' crosses through my mind so many times throughout the day that there are times that it makes me feel dizzy, but I try to ignore it. I try to ignore the thoughts.  
  
There is no 'what if.'  
  
There is no 'maybe if I,' either.  
  
There's nothing anymore.  
  


_I need some distraction  
Oh beautiful release  
Memory seeps from my veins  
_

  
A voice resounds in my mind, reminding me that Luka Kovac had died in the Congo. Other details weren't really known, but I didn't want to know, all that I seemed to understand was that Luka was gone. He was dead. Heh, no, actually, I can't understand it; even now. I can't fathom it. . . He survived a war in Croatia, losing his family, starting over, but he's not here anymore because he volunteered to go help in the Congo. . .  
  


_Let me be empty  
And weightless and maybe  
I'll find some peace tonight  
_

  
Closing my eyes, I try to keep back the tears that have been choking me for two days that I've been refusing to let go of. I can feel them in my eyes, burning as they threaten to fall, but I refuse to once more. Maybe he's not dead. Maybe he's really alive, but he just doesn't want to come back. Maybe he's still there, helping more people. Maybe someone confused him as someone else and said that he was dead. Maybe he's just lost. Maybe he's just hiding. Maybe…  
  
Maybe. . .  
  


_In the arms of an angel  
Fly away from here  
From this dark cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you fear  
_

  
I feel a tear finally fall on my cheek and I open my eyes once more, coming back to reality. A place where 'Maybe's didn't count. A place where the man that I've loved but that I refused to accept was gone. He was gone, and he was never going to come back anymore. Now he was dead somewhere in the jungle; somewhere where people didn't care that he was dead. Where people probably didn't care if he was buried properly or not. He was just another casualty of a stupid war that, like all the other ones, shouldn't be going on. Shouldn't be killing innocent people that had never asked for a war.   
  
That had never even had a single thing to do with the conflict in the first place.  
  
Wiping away the loose tear, I turn to Luka's locker and, for the first time since Carter left, I walk to it slowly. Somehow I'm expecting Luka to walk in and smile, saying good-morning and going to get himself a mug of coffee to get started with the day… That Turkish coffee that we always joked about; me saying how it looked and tasted like mud and him claiming that it was good: that it got him started. Another cold tear falls on my cheek and rolls down slowly. It was a signal: more tears were coming and they were hard to keep back. They were hard to keep hiding them…   
  
"Luka," I catch myself whispering as I see his name on his locker. "Luka, where are you…? You can't be dead…"  
  


_You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort there  
_

  
Almost out of instinct, I pull on the door and, almost instantly, it opened. Right there, in front of me, the door just swung open. Something inside me makes me freeze, though, as I look at his stuff. I don't want to touch anything. I don't want to disturb anything because, if he comes back, then he would want everything to be in order, right? I had no right to move anything…   
  
But he was dead.  
  
He was never coming back.  


_  
So tired of the straight line  
And everywhere you turn  
There are vultures and thieves at your back  
_

  
Does he somehow know that I'm crying for him? The thought that he was here, in the very same room with me at this moment, creeps into my mind and sends a chill down my spine. I do wish that he could somehow know how much I miss him, though. I wish he could know that I don't want him to be dead. I don't want him to leave me alone too.   
  
Three, five, six tears fall on my cheeks and now I realize that I can't stop them. Susan had tried to console me while Carter called Africa to see if he could get more news, but I kept holding back. My 'current boyfriend' was there, trying to find information on my ex-boyfriend.   
  
My dead ex-boyfriend.  
  
I know that we can't, but I want to rewind time. I want to get into a time machine and go back to that horrible night. That night when we yelled stuff at each other. When we both said things that we didn't mean. When we said horrible things…  
  
We both knew each other's weak spots. We both knew what things could hurt us and what our weaknesses were; we took advantage of that. Some sick advantage so that we would be able to hurt the other more. So, by some inexplicable force, that would shield us from the pain that started to burn.   
  
"I'm sorry, Luka…" I try to keep away the small sobs that seem to get choked in my throat. "I'm sorry. I never meant it…"  
  


_It don't make no difference  
Escaping one last time  
It's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh  
This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees_  


  
That last night we talked to each other comes back to mind and I look around unconsciously. I try to find the spot where we hugged, where he held me for one last time before we both let go, but I can't find it. Not here, while the construction's going on. Everything's a mess; nothing is in the right spot. Heh, the lounge isn't in the right spot…   
  
Turning back to his locker, I hesitantly run my fingers gently along his lab coat and more tears rush out. Why did he have to go? Why did it have to be him?   
  
Why?  
  
Was he in that big of a hurry to escape from here? I always knew that he was hurting, even if I kept trying to ignore it, but… If I had done something, maybe he would have stayed. If I had talked to him, maybe he would still be alive.  
  
If…   
  
Maybe…  
  
Just as I'm about to close the door of his locker, something falls out of his pocket and, just as I see it, I can feel even more tears fall. Damn these tears… Leaning down, I pick up the small black and white picture Luka always kept of Danjiela and Jasna. He had left it there in his pocket? He must have forgotten it there.  
  
Or maybe he thought that that would be the only place where it'd be safe.  
  
As I stare at the picture, and I see Danjiela's eyes staring at me, I can't help but stare back. For a year I felt threatened. Threatened by Luka's late wife… God, how childish was I? I remember the words that I yelled at him so long ago, about him being married to a ghost, and a pang of pain takes over me. That must have hurt him so much…   
  
If someone were to say that to me right now…  
  
…that would let me see what he must have felt.  
  
Now I'm the one that's holding on onto something that can never be again.  
  
I'm in love with a ghost…  
  
Through my tears, I try to smile as best as I could at Danjiela. "I'm sorry… For not loving him how I should have. Take… Take care of him, though… Now that he's with you…" Smiling very slightly, I put the picture back in the locker, safely tucked away, and close the door. The thought of Luka happy and smiling again brings a small smile on my lips.   
  
He was reunited with his family…  
  
And I only hope that he's happy with them.  
  
I hope he's happy.  
  
He deserves to finally be happy…  
  


_You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort here_  



End file.
